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Chapter 34: The Stag in the Fog
Date de publication:
2026-11-06 08:37:44The moor was cloaked in thick white fog during the early morning.
Before the hunters had even mounted their horses, the fog had rolled in from the river. The soft grey mist surrounded everything. The heather. The stones. The thin black ridge of the east. When the horns sounded, you couldn’t even see your own stirrup. The horses whinnied and fidgeted. The hounds whined at their leashes. The Duke, his cheeks flu
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Where The Lowborn Kneels Chapter 42: A Treasure of Silver
The chests were opened at midday on the third day. In front of the Emperor, his two sons, the Chief Minister (the Lord Chancellor), forty members of the household and a clerk from every department.There were forty-two chests. They had been brought up from the harbour in a line of carts. They were placed in four neat lines in the grand vaulted chamber underneath the Palace of Lamps. This was where the Emperor’s grandfather once stored the tribute from seven provinces. The tops were iron bound and sealed with grey wax. A Lumoran under-steward walked along the line. Using a small hammer and chisel he tapped each seal. They made a small, sharp and delicate crackling noise like a bone breaking.The tops opened.A mound of silver! It was in bars and stacked like bricks. Pale and heavy. It shone brightly under the l
Where The Lowborn Kneels Chapter 41: The Lord Without a Face
By the time he reached the shore the sun had risen. The mist was thick, and so they only really saw the lanterns.Slowly a long line of two, thirty figures filed out of the grey mist. All wore dark cloaks and held a lamp inside their hoods. They walked with the solemn pace of a funeral. Behind them was a covered carriage, pulled by four black horses, with the curtains drawn. The wheels made little noise as they were wrapped in felt. Behind them were another line of guards, then a group of loaded carts. Finally a long line of mules carrying iron bound chests. Over them all was a banner. The banner was made of grey silk and had the pattern of a mountain with a single vertical line of flame splitting the top. They couldn’t name this symbol. It wasn’t known in Myraval.The Imperial Wharf was packed. From the water to the customs house there were merchan
Where The Lowborn Kneels Chapter 40: An Invitation From Abroad
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Where The Lowborn Kneels Chapter 39: A Cost of Quiet
It was four days later when she went to see him. She made sure that it was the right time; the grey evening, The Duke alone in his study with the bottle of good red and everyone else asleep. She was sure no footmen would bother her for two hours.She knocked."Come in," he called.He was tired looking and older than she remembered, wearing a shirt and sitting at the desk with a ledger and one candle. "Evangeline. You should be asleep."“I wish to speak to you about the fire.”A short pause."That was sorted."“Evangeline. It is late.” I didn’t agree. Close the door please. She stood with her hands clasped
Where The Lowborn Kneels Chapter 38: The Unmarked Grave
The grave was found on the third night thanks to a woman with a scar on her chin.The woman was waiting for them. She wore a grey cloak and deep hood. Her figure was small and quick. She walked through a Hawthorn bush like a cat. Evangeline recognised her immediately. Last time she had seen her was at a grave in a spring churchyard. Her face was thin with freckles. Her finger was placed on her lips.'Wren.’ The woman said with no offer of a handshake. 'That’s what they call me. You are the letter person.''I have them.''The pie seller gave them to me.' Wren said. Her dark eyes scanned over Evangeline, Garrick who stood solidly by her side with a spade over his arm and Dorrie with the lantern. 'I didn’t think you would come. I thought the Duke’s daughter would do somethi
Where The Lowborn Kneels Chapter 37: The Woman They Buried
There were a few strong scents in the cellar. The midwife looked up from her seat as Evangeline entered.It was Thursday, just after midnight. They had walked across the lower city in an hour. Evangeline wore a plain brown cloak she had borrowed off a laundress. Her hair was pulled up and her gloves tucked in her pockets. Dorrie, a tall quiet young woman now, walked a head of her holding a lantern with the shutters down. They had walked through three alleys, dry goods warehouse and a seemingly closed tavern. At the bottom of some slimy steps they arrived at the door, which opened when the right knock was made. Inside was a stout old woman sitting in a cell. She was sitting at a plain wooden table with a single candle burning and a pot of tea cooling by her side.'Have a seat.'Evangeline sat down onto the hard bench. The candle flickered.'Doctor’s daughter.''Yes.''I heard from my Garrick that you gave him a slap across the face in front of everyone.''Yes.''Hmm.' The woman looked
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